


An Enemy, An Enemy, A Frenemy of Mine?

by tadstrangerthings



Series: Skipper Gets Some Fucking Therapy [1]
Category: Penguins of Madagascar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, Homoeroticism, M/M, One-Sided Hans/Skipper, Past Hans/Skipper, Tea Parties, Therapist Hans, the inherent homoeroticism of having a nemesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tadstrangerthings/pseuds/tadstrangerthings
Summary: “So, explain to me again why I’m still tied to a chair and your face isn’t planted clean into the floor?”“Well, for one, I made scones.”Skipper had to roll his eyes at that.It seemed he’d been letting his guard slip as of late. After busting Savio’s NYC rings, he didn’t even hesitate to move them to New Jersey as soon as possible, and with Blowhole still out there and even Private’s old golfing buddy giving them trouble, it appeared that the more paranoid Skipper got, the less obvious clear threats came to him.Hence, being completely oblivious to obvious things, like anthrax-filled letters, or poisoned scones, or Hans in the corner with a baseball bat, pretending to be a lamp, and somehow succeeding.Well, at least one of those things got Skipper stuck at Hans’s mushy-gushy tea party of love and frenemyship, on the top of some skyscraper, in the middle of the night.C’est la vie and all that."Based on @drawbauchery's human au.
Relationships: Hans/Skipper (Madagascar)
Series: Skipper Gets Some Fucking Therapy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707862
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	An Enemy, An Enemy, A Frenemy of Mine?

“So, explain to me again why I’m still tied to a chair and your face isn’t planted clean into the floor?”

“Well, for one, I made scones.”

Skipper had to roll his eyes at that.

It seemed he’d been letting his guard slip as of late. After busting Savio’s NYC rings, he didn’t even hesitate to move them to New Jersey as soon as possible, and with Blowhole still out there and even Private’s old golfing buddy giving them trouble, it appeared that the more paranoid Skipper got, the less obvious clear threats came to him.

Hence, being completely oblivious to obvious things, like anthrax-filled letters, or poisoned scones, or Hans in the corner with a baseball bat, pretending to be a lamp, and somehow succeeding.

Well, at least one of those things got Skipper stuck at Hans’s mushy-gushy tea party of love and frenemyship, on the top of some skyscraper, in the middle of the night.

C’est la vie and all that.

Skipper still had no idea where he stood with the guy. Like, he hated him, clearly, but the kind of nemesis that could be foiled with a lunch date every now and again was not an enemy Skipper considered worth having. If every domestic terrorist could be foiled with hugs and kisses like that, Private would probably be leading the task force. However, Hans’s attacks were always rather personal, never directed at the public in any way. So, somehow, there was something more efficient and more enjoyable about taking care of him for the week he was in town than taking him up on any of his offers were.

Not that Skipper got to rescind that offer now.

“Face it, Skipper. If you didn’t really want to be here, you would have escaped by now.” Hans purred.

“You’re right. Thanks for reminding me.” Skipper said, leaning down to attempt to reach the one of the knives he kept in his boots.

“I just want to talk.”

“Yeah? Well, you got 4 minutes.”

“I think you have some things you want to talk about as well.”

“Buddy, that’s between me, myself, and I. You’re not my therapist, and I wouldn’t talk to you if you were.” Skipper’s speech was soon cut off, as he grabbed the knife from his boot with his teeth, sat up once more, turned his head, and dropped the knife into one of the hands that were tied behind his back. Hans looked rather unimpressed as he sipped his tea.

“You do know that I was going to let you go after this whole ordeal, right?”

“3 minutes.”

“I think you need someone to talk to outside of your task force.”

“I have Marlene. And Kitka.”

Skipper began to carve away at his ropes. Although it was a sharp blade, these were still the strong ropes that Hans would use back in the day. It would take him more time than he let on to carve completely through them, and Hans knew that.

“You need someone who lives the same life that you do, that does not live the same life you do.” Hans made the motion to pour Skipper a glass of tea, despite the fact that he couldn’t reach his cup. It was just something to do. Something to ease his nerves, and Skipper knew that.

“I’m not saying this has to be me.”

Skipper stopped his carving.

“I know you don’t confide in your task force, or in those outside of it. You have a lot of stress in your field of work, Skipper. It’s not good for you.”

“You’re not my doctor, it’s never been a problem before, and who are you to care about any aspect of my well-being at all?”

“You’re repressed, paranoid, sleep-deprived, in love with Private, and are clearly coping with some kind of guilt complex.” Hans stated, brushing some hair out of his eyes.

“You’re right. I don’t care about your well-being all that much. I wouldn’t even say at all. But, you’re my enemy, and that’s what I’m supposed to do. Not care.”

He let out this large sigh, which hid the fact that at the mere mention of emotions that Skipper began carving at his ropes once more.

“But I do. What is Denmark if not a sign of that? You may have bigger bads with bigger ray guns and larger influence, but I do still believe we have something far more special. And I want that to mean something.”

“All I’m saying is that you deserve someone in your corner for once. If I can read all these things from only a few visits in these past few years, imagine what someone far more malicious could do with these things.”

“God, you got all that from “reading” me? More like you went to couple’s counseling.” Skipper snarked, but Hans heard the Freudian slip that came from “couple’s” counseling, instead of any other. He chose to ignore it in that moment. “I don’t need anyone else in my corner. I’ve got enough people to dry my eyes when I scrape my knee, thank you very much. I’ll deal with it on my own when it becomes an issue. There’s no reason to now.”

“When it becomes an issue?” Hans practically screamed before he began chuckling to himself. “Skipper, honey. You haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in two weeks, you tried to attack the mailman but opened a letter filled with anthrax, and if Private so much as smiles at you you go into crisis. You’re dealing with everything now, but you’re not doing anything about it.”

“Yeah, uh, how did you know any of those things?”

“Don’t worry about it. There’s a point to all of this.”

“Which is?”

“I want you to talk to me. Talk to somebody. Anybody, about any of this. Sure, it may be your problem now when Private sends you into a state of cardiac arrest, but as soon as anybody else figures that out, it’ll be everybody’s problem.”

Skipper felt his cheeks growing hot. “You seem to be fixating on something.”

“Maybe so.” Hans shrugged, before taking another sip of his tea and rising from the table. He walked away from where the tea party was held to look out the window at the NYC skyline, as the sun began to rise. “I suppose we’ll always have Denmark.”

Skipper wanted to snark more, but this whole meeting put him on edge. This wasn’t the sickly sweet tea party where Hans would talk of friendish things in order to woo him back to how things used to be, nor was it the torture basement Skipper had almost been suspecting before he knew it was Hans. This was almost genuinely friendly, almost earnest. Not only was this strange to have to hear from someone who Skipper considered an enemy, but from anybody at all.

Kowalski may place a firm hand on his shoulder, or Private would say something reassuring and adorable, and Rico would always be the more unstable of the two of them, making him look well-adjusted by comparison, but nobody really tried confronting these issues that Skipper had. Maybe because they knew he’d turn it back on them, and having to cope with their rejection-related dysphorias or low self-esteem or other instabilities that dwelled within them was just too much.

But, Skipper was their leader. It wasn’t really talked about, but it was undeniable. He shouldn’t be having these interventions, much less asking for them. He held himself to a certain standard. Possibly an unreachable one, sure, but, that’s what everyone said about Everest.

“You have a lot of enemies, Skipper. And the enemy of my enemy is a friend of mine. A lot of them are willing to pay top billing for information on your weaknesses. Things I’ve found out so easily, things I know just by looking at you.”

Hans turned to face Skipper. “But, if you confide in me, I’d be willing to give out some false leads to send them chasing after their own tails.”

“Sure, so I’m just supposed to tell you every insecurity and expect you to not use it against me? Who in the world expects that?”

“Therapists do.” Hans shrugged. “Under the Hippocratic Oath, nothing you tell me could be shared with another living soul without me risking losing my license, and frankly, I think I’ve taken to therapy. I have an office and everything. I quite enjoy it, personally.”

“Alright, but what do you get out of it?” Skipper asked, ever so certain he’s gotten him up a tree.

“I’ll get to see you more often.” Hans smiled. “I can’t guarantee that I wouldn’t use what I’ve learned from these conversations in my own plots, but I’ve found that it’s an art of give and take. You’ll have a knife to my throat, I’ll have a knife to yours.”

“You’re really trying hard to make therapy appeal to me, huh.” Skipper processed. This whole meeting felt so circular to him.

“Of course. I did mention I worried about your well-being.” Hans said, as he walked behind Skipper’s chair to unite his ropes, mere minutes before Skipper’s incessant sawing would have finally snapped his ropes free.

“And I thought you said that enemies didn’t care about each other’s well-beings.”

“An enemy, an enemy, a frenemy of mine.” Hans smiled, in a sad sort of way. Not that it made Skipper feel anything, really. He did feel hungry. He wondered if Rico was putting bacon on the stove by now.

“At least think about it. It’s not very fun for me to play these games when I’m so aware of how easily I could break you.”

Skipper scowled at that, in a resentful sort of way.

“And I’m sure to wouldn’t be fun for you either if I fell apart on you either. There’s a delicate balance to these things, these games we all play, but they need maintenance.”

Skipper was finally freed from his bindings, and took a moment to soothe his wrists, which had been rubbed raw from all the sawing he had been doing to get out of this conversation.

“We should do this again some time.” Hans stuck his hand out for a handshake, eagerly. Skipper eyed it wearily.

“I’m sure we will.”

**Author's Note:**

> (I’m going to be real here, this was more supposed to be Hans confronting Skipper on his feelings for Private, because I love writing pining and I love writing this dynamic and whatever, but it clearly got away from me??? My bad. Hope you guys enjoyed anyhow!)
> 
> https://drawbauchery.tumblr.com


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